


Independence

by enigmaticblue



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 13:19:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1689788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/enigmaticblue/pseuds/enigmaticblue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set in a very different world, where Buffy didn't come back from the dead, and Willow didn't survive the resurrection attempt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Independence

“Do you have everything?” Dawn asked Tara anxiously.

 

Tara smiled. “It’s all ready.”

 

“Blood for Spike?” she pressed.

 

“It’s in there,” Tara assured her. “He won’t go hungry.”

 

“Good.” Dawn frowned. “Wait. Did we get the sparklers? We have to have sparklers.”

 

“Spike’s bringing them,” Tara soothed. “Don’t worry about it, Dawnie.”

 

It seemed that worrying was all Dawn did these days, about nearly everything. Tara thought it was almost as if she thought that she could prevent anything bad from happening by imagining everything and anything that could go wrong, and doing what she could to stop it.

 

Tara knew that it could be worse; with everything that had happened in the last year and a half, it was amazing that Dawn was doing as well as she was.

 

“Do you think he really wants to come?” Dawn asked abruptly.

 

Tara smiled. “You asked him to be there, sweetie. I think that’s enough.”

 

“But does he really want to stay _here_?” she pressed. “He wouldn’t have to.”

 

The blonde witch sighed. Spike wouldn’t have had to stay in Sunnydale, but he had because he’d made a promise, and Dawn still needed him. Tara sometimes thought that he would have dusted himself long ago if it weren’t for that promise. “He’s not going to leave, Dawn,” she said patiently.

 

The girl had lost too many people to be sanguine about anyone sticking around, even if that someone was Spike, who seemed to be living for Dawn alone.

 

“It’s just—he’s supposed to be scary,” Dawn objected. “Everything he does around here, for me, I don’t get it. Before…” She trailed off, still unwilling to complete that sentence. She meant “before Buffy died,” and Tara knew what Dawn was trying to say. Spike had become a little more domesticated in the last couple of years.

 

But only a little. Dawn saw the gentler side of him; Tara had watched him unleash his demon while out on patrol. He was _not_ a tame vampire, but he let them believe that he was. Xander still cherished the belief, as had Willow before her death. Tara was a little more appreciative of Spike’s wilder side. He’d saved her life with it more than once.

 

“I don’t think you need to worry about Spike,” was all she said. “He finds plenty of vampire things to do when he’s not around you.”

 

“Have you ever thought about it?” Dawn asked, picking up the plastic sack with their picnic supplies—a blanket, paper plates, and plastic utensils.

 

Tara grabbed the hamper. “Thought about what?”

 

“Becoming a vampire.”

 

She didn’t let herself become too alarmed. Dawn frequently asked questions about death and all its forms these days, and Tara simply answered as best she could, even if it was a simple “I don’t know.”

 

“I haven’t given it much thought,” she admitted. “If I were turned, I’m sure the others would have to kill me.”

 

“You could leave town,” Dawn argued. “You could do anything you wanted if you were a vampire.”

 

“I suppose that’s true,” Tara allowed; she didn’t bother pointing out that there were many things that vampires couldn’t do, like taking a walk in the sun; that wasn’t what Dawn meant.

 

Dawn climbed into the passenger seat of Joyce’s old SUV. “And you probably don’t miss people.”

 

Now they were entering dangerous territory, and Tara could sense that she was on treacherous ground. She had no idea if that was true of vampires, at least of people they knew from their past, human lives. She’d heard of plenty choosing family members as their first victims, so it was entirely possible.

 

Spike, however, seemed to be able to form attachments, and she had no idea if he still mourned those he’d loved when he was a human, even though time had surely dulled the ache. Time _had_ to dull it; Tara thought she might go mad otherwise.

 

“You would have to ask Spike about that,” she finally said, knowing that the vampire would not be happy with her for passing the buck to him, but Tara felt inadequate to the task.

 

~~~~~

 

Of all the things he’d done for Dawn, going to an evening picnic and bringing sparklers was probably the least onerous. She’d been thrilled when she heard that Sunnydale was going to put on a fireworks display, and she had invited him to go with her and Tara.

 

Normally, it wouldn’t have been something he’d have agreed to. He knew that he owed Dawn, however. If he’d done his job, and kept his promise, Buffy would still be around.

 

Spike knew that the only thing he could do to honor her memory was to keep Dawn safe and happy. He was managing the safe; there were days when he thought he might even have managed happy.

 

He spotted Tara and Dawn standing by Joyce’s Jeep. “H’lo,” he greeted them.

 

“Did you bring the sparklers?” Dawn asked.

 

Spike held up the plastic sack. “And a few other things you can set off when you go home tonight.”

 

Tara gave him a reproving look, but said nothing. Spike figured she didn’t like the idea of Dawn blowing things up, but he planned on supervising.

 

“Come on,” Dawn urged them imperiously. “We want to get a good seat.”

 

The park was already filling up with people. It was still twilight, with the sun down just far enough so that Spike didn’t have to worry about getting singed. There would be other vampires here, of course, at the edges of the crowd, waiting for someone to go off on their own.

 

Buffy would have cared about that; she probably would have gone off to do some hunting of her own once she was certain that Dawn was safe with the others.

 

Spike couldn’t bring himself to care about the strangers in the crowd, the ones Buffy had died to save, and who didn’t even know her name. Their lives weren’t his responsibility.

 

Tara spread the blanket on the ground and began pulling out the food—nothing that he found terribly interesting. Fried chicken, potato salad, and coleslaw weren’t the sorts of things he cared to eat. She then pulled out a thermos and handed it to him, however, and he raised an eyebrow in question.

 

“Dawn didn’t want you to go hungry,” she said with a smile.

 

The girl was plowing through her plate of food, looking up at the sky, not wanting to miss a thing. Spike wondered what it was about the fireworks and this night that had her so worked up; it was clear—to him, at least—that something was going through that head of hers.

 

There was a loud boom, and the first explosion lit the sky, followed closely by another and another. Whoever had organized it knew how to put on a good show, and Spike found himself enjoying himself.

 

When it was all over, Tara rose. “I’ll be right back. I just saw someone I know.”

 

His eyes followed her, wanting to know who she was meeting, and to be sure that they were human, and not going to hurt her. While he might not care about the strangers in the crowd, Tara was a good one, and Dawn would be devastated if anything happened to her.

 

Hell, he’d be fairly upset himself.

 

The girl she walked up to gave her a hug, and they immediately started talking. Spike decided that she was safe enough and turned back to Dawn. The teen was looking uncharacteristically hesitant, and she kept glancing from him to the lit sparkler she was holding. “What is it, Bit?”

 

“I just—I was wondering something.”

 

“Ask away.”

 

“Why are you still here?” The question stung, and some of that must have shown on his face, because she quickly added, “I want you here. It’s just—you’re a vampire, and you’re always doing stuff with me. Human stuff. I—I wondered if you really wanted to.”

 

“I made your sister a promise,” he replied evenly, not even thinking about his response.

 

Dawn moved the sparkler through the air, and he realized that she was spelling out Buffy’s name. “Do you miss her?”

 

“Yeah, I do. Every day.”

 

“Do you still miss people you knew before you were a vampire?”

 

Now they were entering dangerous territory, and he knew it. “Sometimes I do.”

 

“I thought you didn’t miss anybody when you became a vampire, that you didn’t care anymore.”

 

The reason for her question became clear, and Spike wanted to lie. He wanted to tell her that every vampire missed being human, missed the people they’d known while human, because he knew what she was asking. If she became a vampire, she thought she’d no longer grieve her sister’s death.

 

And her mother’s, and Willow’s. Dawn had done too much grieving for a girl her age.

 

“Some don’t,” he finally said, wanting to be honest. “That wasn’t true of me.”

 

“So I might still care?”

 

“Yeah, but you don’t want to be a vampire, luv.”

 

Dawn frowned at him. “I thought you liked it.”

 

She had him there. The very things he wanted to tell her she’d miss were the things that didn’t seem important once you’d dug yourself out of your grave. Who needed the sun when you had the night? And who needed family and friends when you had your sire, and people represented food and nothing more?

 

“Yeah, well, it has its advantages. You’d miss the sun, though.” He didn’t know that for sure, but he said it anyway. The truth was that he couldn’t imagine his Nibblet as a vampire, with all the light snuffed out of her. The very idea chilled him to the bone.

 

“I guess.” She looked up at the stars. “So, you’re here because Buffy made you promise to stick around?”

 

Spike snorted. “Your sister didn’t ‘make’ me do anything. She asked, and I promised—for her, and for you.” Then, in a fierce tone, wanting to be sure she understood completely, he added, “I’m sticking around for you, as long as you want me here.”

 

There was relief in her eyes when she looked at him. “Okay.”

 

~~~~~

 

Tara didn’t bother trying to go to sleep, even though it was late, and she had to be at work the next morning. She could hear the explosions outside and Dawn’s squeals too clearly, but she found herself unable to resent it. The girl sounded happy and carefree for the first time in a long time.

 

When she’d seen Deanne, a girl she’d known from college, Tara had thought to give Spike and Dawn a chance to talk. Whatever Spike had said had obviously laid some of Dawn’s fears to rest, and she was grateful for that.

 

After all the fireworks had been set off, Dawn came in, still excited. She called a goodnight to Tara and headed up to her room.

 

“Sorry if we kept you up,” Spike said from just inside the front door. “Thought she might enjoy that.”

 

“I don’t mind.”

 

“So, uh, you got a new girlfriend, then?”

 

Tara realized that he was referring to Deanne. “No. She’s just a friend. I still—it’s too early for me to move on.”

 

“Yeah, I guess so.”

 

“Do you want a cup of tea?” she asked, realizing that it was rare for them to spend time together without Dawn right there.

 

Ever since Giles had somehow arranged for her to take over Dawn’s care, it had mostly been the two of them looking after her, and yet they rarely were alone.

 

“That’d be nice,” Spike replied, following her into the kitchen and sitting down at the counter. “You okay?”

 

“Some days,” Tara said, glad that she could keep an even tone. “You?”

 

“Some days,” he echoed. “Doesn’t seem right that they’re gone, does it?”

 

“No, it doesn’t.” She turned from the teakettle to look at him—ageless face, weary blue eyes, bleached hair.

 

They were two of a kind, she realized. They had both fought for their independence—Spike waged a war everyday against what he was to keep a promise made to a dead woman. Tara had fought to get away from her family, and the lies they’d bound her with.

 

Spike had been the one to strike the killing blow, and Tara had never thanked him.

 

“You know,” she began, setting his cup of tea down in front of him. “I never thanked you for hitting me in the nose.”

 

He looked at her, puzzled for a moment until he caught her reference. “Yeah?”

 

“You really are needed here, Spike.”

 

They were the right words to say, and a smile touched his lips. “I guess I am.”

 

Strange as it was, Tara felt she’d found a kindred spirit in a vampire.


End file.
